Emmy and the Rats in the Belfry by Lynne Jonell Page A

and on the skeletal hands that rested atop the comforter. Her eyes were closed; she looked so pale and she lay so still that Emmy wondered if she were dead already.
    â€œGussie, dear,” said Aunt Melly, “I’ve brought a visitor.”
    The papery eyelids fluttered open to reveal eyes of a surprisingly vivid blue.
    Aunt Melly steered Emmy gently to the bedside. “Gussie, this is Jimmy’s girl. Emmy, this is your great-aunt Augusta.”
    â€œOh my!” The voice that issued from the woman on the bed was just a thin thread of sound, but the mouth quirked sweetly. “That Jimmy … was a rascal … but you … look perfectly … lovely!”
    â€œDon’t talk, dear; you get so out of breath.” Aunt Melly plumped up her sister’s pillows, put a hand on the pale forehead, and looked worried. “Is there much pain?”
    â€œNot … so much,” whispered Aunt Augusta.
    Now that she looked, Emmy could see the signs of suffering everywhere on the wasted face. The mouth smiled, but the lines on either side were deep. The blue eyes were bright, but the space between them was tensely knit.
    â€œWe’ll let you rest now, dear. But before I go, is there anything you need? Could you eat a little something? A poached egg, perhaps?”
    Aunt Augusta closed her eyes. Her head turned slightly to one side.
    â€œA nice cup of tea, then, and maybe a cookie? I have Russian tea cakes, Gussie—your favorite kind.” Aunt Melly tightened the belt of her robe and spoke more firmly. “You must eat something to keep up your strength, or I shall have to call the doctor.”
    The eyes flew open, and the blue-veined hands lifted in sudden protest. “No!” Aunt Augusta’s whisper was like the cry of a frightened bird. “You promised, Melly!”
    â€œThen you must eat something.”
    Aunt Augusta shut her eyes again. “All right,” she said faintly, and was still.
    The bedroom door shut behind them with a click . Aunt Melly sank down on the cedar chest and looked up at Emmy. “You see,” she said.
    Emmy knelt beside her. “Why doesn’t she want you to call the doctor?”
    â€œBecause she knows the doctor would put her in the hospital or a nursing home. But she wants to stay here—where she’s lived all her life—in her own home, in her own room, with me to take care of her.”
    Emmy fiddled with the handle of the pet carrier. Ana and the rats were being unusually quiet, but that probably meant they were listening all the more. “Isn’t it hard for you to take care of her all by yourself?” She tried not to look at the mess all around her.
    â€œHard?” Aunt Melly flared. “I bathe her and make her favorite foods and do her laundry and wash her hair and turn her over in bed, and I run up and down the stairs fifty times a day. It’s terribly hard, but I’d do it all ten times over just to keep her with me, if I had the strength.” Aunt Melly stared at her gnarled hands. “At least she doesn’t suspect how I’ve let things go in the rest of the house. She only sees her room, and I keep that looking nice …”
    Emmy was silent a moment, thinking. The aunts were supposed to be rich, just like Great-Great-Uncle William had been. “Why don’t you hire someone to come in and help you?”
    Aunt Melly lifted a ravaged face. “You don’t suppose I haven’t thought of that? I did hire someone, last winter. But this is such a small neighborhood, the cleaning lady started talking to the neighbors and telling them how ill Gussie was and that she should really be in the hospital, and it was all I could do to convince people that she only had a bad cold. Sometimes people just won’t mind their own business!” she finished fiercely. “Gussie doesn’t want to die in a hospital, all hooked up to tubes and things, and I don’t blame